


Rips and Tears

by Cyane (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Mycroft, Brotherly Affection, Bullying, Homophobic Language, Implied Non-Consensual Kissing, Kid Sherlock, Prompt Fill, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:06:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cyane
Summary: Mycroft doesn't like it when people hurt Sherlock. As it so happens, people seem to enjoy hurting Sherlock.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just keep writing Sherlock fics because I'm feeling down about the finale.

"Go collect William." Mummy said. "I won't have that boy skipping any more meals."

Mycroft scrunched up his nose. "And how am _I_ supposed to know where he goes?"

She gave her son a look. "Don't be daft, Myc. You're the only other person in this house who knows the slightest hint of what's on William's mind."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "I don't blame him for hiding when you insist on calling him and I by names that are not our own. For the last time, mother, my name is _Mycroft_ , and my brother's name is _Sherlock_."

"Go." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for arguing. She turned back to her work, signaling that the conversation was over. Mycroft slowly got up and turned to the back door. It seemed that he would have to put in the legwork. Again.

It took two minutes to find Sherlock among the branches in the huge willow trees. 

"Get down!" Mycroft snapped.

Sherlock was still looking away. "No. Did Mummy send you?"

"Yes," Mycroft drawled, although his stomach twisted slightly at Sherlock's hoarse voice. "So hurry along, would you, Sherlock?"

His younger brother let out a long, tired sigh and hopped down. 

The moment he straightened himself and turned around, Mycroft's jaw clenched. Deductions sprang up from thin air as he looked over his brother. Sherlock's left eye was horribly bloodshot- blood vessels broken. The skin surrounding the area was blackened, blue and purple, eventually fading into red. Along his eyebrow was a long, shallow cut. 

The other eye was red from crying.

Mycroft's jaw went slack. 

"Sherlock, what..."

Both the navy sweater that hung off his thin frame and the button up underneath were filthy with dirt. The sleeves had been rolled up, just before the elbows, and Mycroft could see mud and scratches dotting Sherlock's pale arms.

And the hideous jeans that Mummy had gotten Sherlock. (She didn't like it when he ruined his uniform trousers with filth.) The jeans were ripped in several places, caked with grime. 

"Shut it, Mycroft," Sherlock hissed. Mycroft couldn't tell if it was out of spite or physical pain. 

"Sebastian and Richard, I presume?" Mycroft asked, his voice laced with ice. He knew about the two- they went to school with Sherlock. He had been forced to save Sherlock from the school staff after Sherlock had explained Sebastian's girlfriend's sudden disappearance and Richard's homosexuality. That had been interesting.

But not like this.

"You _assume_ wrong!" 

Mycroft sighed. "Any other injuries I should be aware of?"

Sherlock just glared at him and shifted slightly. "Get outta the way, 'Myc."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. Took everything in. Sherlock's flushed, embarrassed cheeks. His lips were swollen.

Slowly- calmly,- Mycroft inhaled. "Richard's still upset with you for outing him?"

Sherlock turned crimson. He took a hesitant breath and looked down at his trainers. "He... Mycroft, he said... Richard said I had it comin'. Said I was a... said I just outed him because I wanted him to... er." Sherlock cut himself off, looking absolutely mortified.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "Did he give you that eye before or after he started snogging you?"

Sherlock's face pinched. "...after," He finally muttered.

"Mother wants you inside, Sherlock. No more missing meals."

"But-!"

"I have things I need to take care of. Tell Mummy I'll be in soon. Run along, now."

Sherlock blinked in surprise. He gestured towards his face and clothes. "What the hell am I supposed to tell Mummy?"

Mycroft huffed impatiently. "Well, you're not as stupid as you look, are you? Change before she sees you. We can get you new jeans another day. Now _go_."

Sherlock scowled, but left.

And Mycroft did show up at the dinner table, as did Sherlock. (Along with new clothes, freshly-showered skin, and makeup covering up the entire eye.) Sherlock asked again and again what Mycroft had done.

Mycroft shrugged.

And if two boys were suddenly and unexpectedly requested for several therapy groups, psyche exams, and military school... well...

It really was just a sudden and unexpected coincidence.


End file.
